Not Without Humor
by Addicted-to-GazettE
Summary: Wakahisa Satome, age 20, University Student. She would maintain to the death that her lives problems all boiled down to one thing: It was all the Weatherman's fault. If not for their shoddy predictions, she'd never have ended up neck deep in over her head.


**Disclaimer** : _**Tokyo Ghou**_ _l_ , and all of its affiliated characters are property of _**Sui Ishida**_ _._

I should be writing other things. But this wouldn't leave me alone so here it is.

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Not Without Humor: Act 1

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The weather man lied was her only excuse.

It was the third week into summer vacation and on a whim that Satome found herself stuck outside in a storm. Somehow the shady weather people always seemed to put a damper on all her plans.

Go outside her family had urged. Locking yourself away during vacation to research pointless things is depressing and bad for you. Get some sun. Dress up nice, meet someone new. Weren't the girls from your class holding a mixer party today that she'd been invited to? How they'd found out that little bit of information, when Satome had all but burned the invite, was something the frazzled woman didn't want to know.

That was how she found herself ejected from her comfy room and wandering around town like a lost kitten, in a pair of ridiculous shoes that hurt her feet. Frowning as she adjusted the strap on her shoulder bag, Satome considered going to the shopping district to sneak off to the bookshop. With her luck one of her mother's friends would spot her and report back to her parents that she was buying "suspicious reading material again". Better not, she thought, and stick with the books she already had for now. The girl found herself frowning at the crosswalk waiting for the red light to turn blue and signal safe crossing, when she saw it. A small colorful sign to the left that boasted of beautiful picnic grounds and scenery. Fingers brushing over the lump of books in her bag, Satome figured it was as likely a place as any to hide from neighborhood gossips. and be able to somewhat enjoy her day.

She should have known, hurrying across the narrow street, that her luck never seemed to hold out so well.

Fifteen minutes into walking through the admittedly beautiful gardens, the first drop of rain plopped onto her lightly freckled nose. It only went downhill from there.

Water seeped into the cotton dress her mother insisted she wear that morning for the mixer, and plastered the material in an unpleasant manner. Shuddering at the unpleasant feel of droplets sneaking down her back, the girl threw her arms up in futile defense and raced along the path, dodging puddles, and similarly distressed families. In her strappy sandals. The same frivolous footwear that her classmate forced on her the week previous on an entirely different unwanted outing. The same stupid sandals so well suctioned to the wet pavement that when she tried to dodge an errant child, Satome screamed as her ankle wrenched to the side and nearly went sprawling to the ground. Fingers grasping for purchase on thin air, she managed to catch hold of a grimy statue and persevere some of her flagging dignity. The tiny five year old to the left that her flailing nearly nailed was towed away from the sheepish young adult by an angry parental unit. People were staring and whispering behind their hands as they gave her wide berth.

Satome watched them go before leaning over to fix the lopsided strap of her shoe. They seemed to be heading off to the picnic area to find shelter before the drizzle escalated. Probably will shove in like a pack of sweaty sardines. Straightening she winced as she put pressure on her ankle. Not good. She needed to find a place to sit and rest. So decided Satome clutched her shoulder bag almost protectively, and shuffled in the opposite direction feeling her skin crawl at the thought of being crushed together with so many other people. Disgusting. She never should have decided to stop here.

Soon the crowd thinned out until only Satome herself remained, the surroundings a little more narrow, and scenic, though they provided very little in the form of cover. She grimaced as water seeped in her eyes and squelched between the arch of her feet and the shoe. Soon the moisture would turn her ankle breaking footwear into neck breaking footwear. She really needed to find a place to hide from the rain that was slowly but surely picking up.

Slowing to a stop, the drooping girl pondered just turning around and braving the sardine crush. Her ankle throbbed angrily as she contemplated backtracking over all the ground she'd managed to cover. It was very doubtful that she'd be able to make it back. Dark, defeated eyes swung to and fro looking for a likely place to rot and die.

With some amount of Relief, Satome spotted an arch in the distance through some overgrowth. The leaves were dripping and even dribbling copious amounts of rainwater, but at this point the woman was too soaked to care. In for an ounce in for a pound. Slowly she pushed her wet self into the grass and powered on.

Finally after her poor hair was sufficiently wrecked, the youngest of the Wakahisa family took shelter under the small, but quaint, roof of a gazebo nestled in a bushel of flowering plants.

Digging for a handkerchief in her bag, she wilted onto the only wooden bench in the shelter. Determined to use the fabric to soak out some of the water collected in her dress, she looked down only to hesitate, staring in dismay. The wet had turned the airy spring green material into a skin sucking mess of fabric that reminded her of paper mache she'd played with in primary school. Groaning her misfortune to the ceiling, the brunette abandoned her damp attire in favor of wringing the water out of her shoulder length hair instead. Five minutes and a soggy kerchief later, the rain had only thickened. Resigned Satome slumped in her wooden prison and kicked off the stupid shoes still clinging to her feet. Pulling one leg over the other, she used hesitant fingers to gently prod at the skin over her abused ankle. A small twinge under pressure and slightly swollen but not bad. Letting her foot flop back down, she leaned back and cursed her luck for the -nth time that day. She'd planned to read while relaxing in the sun.

"So much for 'Get out and enjoy the pretty weather'." she snarked grumpily under her breath, mocking her mother's words from that morning as she'd thrown her daughter out of the house in a ridiculous dress, and even worse shoes.

Ducking out from under the strap of her shoulder bag, Satome dug for one of the reference books she'd been able to smuggle out of the house despite her mother's hope she'd go out and actually be social. Lucky I did, she sulked, otherwise I'd be stranded and bored.

Flipping the pages open she took in a deep breath, rolling her shoulder in an attempt to for the first time enjoy the soothing rain. As the musky scent of ozone mixed in with the smell of freshly printed ink her lips quirk in a secretive smile.

 _Maybe not so bad. I have a book, shelter, and no one to bother me. I can get some rea-_

"Please pardon the intrusion, everywhere else is full"

Sucking in a sharp breath at the unexpected interruption, dark eyes fly up. Dear lord, she thought mouth falling open in shock. The person standing before her was… something. Average height, a wet black tangle of what might resemble hair when dry, dark baggy clothes and thick framed sunglasses on an overcast day. Metal clinked together as one pale hand plucked at gathered fabric in odd places to dislocate any gathered water. With their face averted toward the rain behind them Satome didn't hesitate to stare in shock knowing they couldn't see her expression yet.

She'd never in her life seen anyone like this. What was it called...grunge, goth, punk, alternative? None of those tags seemed to fit the eclectic fashion statement this person seemed to want to portray. When the person shifted slightly, hinting at their intent to turn around, Satome clicked her mouth shut with a snap! before they turned around to notice her catching flies. Hopefully the noise would be drowned with the shaaa-ing pattern of the rain.

 _What the hell are you supposed to be_ , the words nearly slipped out in her disconcerted state of mind before the university student ruthlessly culled in the words. People who dressed as if out of a slasher film rarely took kindly to such turn of phrase. The stranger started to turn finally. She nearly broke her jaw on the ground again when she noticed they virtually had no eyebrows. What kind of person shaves off their eyebrows?! When one non-eyebrow rose above those larger frames in answer to her scrutiny, Satome realized, with horror, that she'd been caught-out.

Throwing her face back towards her lap, wide eyes scan for a lost paragraph. However, her brain refused to focus, more interested in stealing glances at the tall, dark, and -

 _Terrifying._ Her throat swelled and she bit down on the inside of her cheek to stop from making any sudden movements or sound as the creepy enigma sat down other other end of the bench. God her palms were sweating. She hadn't even noticed him...her… it...move.

Her sanctuary was being invaded by a gender-less weirdo.

Nervous she flipped a page to disguise her own painful awareness of their proximity in the tiny space as a silence stretched between them like taffy. Thick, awkward, ready to fall apart at any moment-

"What are you reading," a question turned into flat statement, with no inflection.

Sweet Jesus-

Her immediate instinct was to hide away evidence of her secret obsession. Her hands snapped together, seeking to hide away what drew attention, fingers spread wide to hid the title before shoving the freshly pressed bound pages under her purse. It was only as a heavy silence bore down on the two that Satome realized how rude her actions seemed. Guilt surfaces briefly, after all this person obviously was not her ever disapproving family, but it was too late to take back her harsh reaction. Too afraid to look to the side to view the reception of her actions, she tucked her trembling hands under her thighs. The last thing she wanted this person to view her as was weak, for wasn't that what the news always said serial killers coveted in their victims. This was so awkward. How was she even supposed to act around someone who had no eyebrows?! She just knew if she opened her mouth something stupid would come out.

Please stop raining, please, please, stop raining.

Glaring determinedly ahead at the pouting Buddha statue squatted on the other side of the abandoned path, she began to slowly count to a hundred. The little Buddha's serene face, though worn smooth by time and abandonment, seemed to frown deeply with disappointment. Satome averted her eyes, luckily having no trouble keeping the blush from her face as all the blood in her seemed to have drained away. I was about to read that in front of a bleeding Buddha statue; of all things why a Buddha -

A shuffled sound of paper and quiet scratches to her left side makes the girl flinch imperceptibly, before quickly reminding herself to stay calm. Just be quiet. Become one with the wooden bench and maybe you'll live long enough to go home and hide the rest of your life away in your closet.

"What's your name"

Sadly it was not meant to be. She just had to be sharing her space with the most curious person ever.

The words were posed in a mocking androgynous melody, falling from the lips of her companion of dubious origin or gender. Soft, cultured speech that hinted a femininity, but with a raw undercurrent that made one hesitate to decisively chose female over male. Wakahisa furrowed her brow feeling more and more distressed, watching the rain drench the world around their shelter, blurring the vibrant colors to sharp smelling obscurity. Seeming stubborn in her silence when really it was just that her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth.

 _Forget the storm, a little water never hurt-_

"My name's Uta."

 _That's nice. I wonder if this Uta-san can sing…_ It seems when half hysterical she was now given to terrible punage. Satome was tempted to go find a lake to throw herself in and be done with it.

"You're a silent type huh? Or maybe just shy? You know, I promise not to bite if you talk to me. After all it seems like we'll be stuck here for a while." Still flat, still androgynous in tone, but there seemed to be a hint of laughter hiding deep in the words. Was this person making fun of her? Automatically her cheeks warmed and her stomach knotted unpleasantly. It was like primary school recess all over again when the kids poked fun at her for being nerdy instead of wanting to play tag in the muck.

Disgruntled now, Satome pulled her hands free of her legs and grabbed her book back from its hiding place, feeling somewhat rebellious,. Not so rebellious though, that she didn't remember to keep the someone scandalous title and cover art out of prying eye line. She arranged it carefully across her knees, and propped the innocent back flap up to keep them from reading over her shoulder. What did she care if this person thought her odd and anti-social. Everyone else did too. 'That Satome is so weird burying her nose in a book.' 'She's rude', 'Never hangs out with anyone' and 'is always writing strange things in her notebooks' were all things she'd gotten used to hearing from her peers.

Goosebumps broke out along her bare legs as a soggy wind chilled the water still clinging to her skin. Shifting uncomfortably closer to her side of the edge until her butt nearly hung off, the tense girl decided she was just going to ignore her co-occupant like one would background noise. Yes. Very black, very scary, very _something_ , background noise.

Flipping to a random page, Satome began to force her eyes over the words, defining each one in her head if not necessarily grasping the context at the moment.

Then she felt the air stir in a different way, a warmth seemed to waft from a foreign source. The hair on her arms stood on end in warning just as her eyes snapped up to find the previously labeled background noise had scooted closer and was leaning-

 _Too close too close -_

"Hm that looks painful, did you fall?" the stranger hummed, face tilted to better view whatever had caught his attention.

Satome, nearly swallowed her tongue as she caught the first up close glimpse of the stranger. He was very visually... stunning, she supposed was an adept word. Not handsome in a classic sense, or any sense that Satome had ever found appealing, but she had to admit there was so much… character there. Oh and she could see very well at this distance that he was, in fact, male. One piece of the puzzle that was this enigmatic stranger solved.

Automatically an invisible notebook flipped open in her mind, an occupational hazard that she no longer resisted, and she began to take note of the details. Slender, still with a slightly feminine grace, but the sharp edge of his adams apple indicated clearly his gender. Her eyes entranced traced down along his neck: dull metal chains, a black smudge of symbols of unknown meaning, collar bones visible in the gape of his baggy sweater, morphing into sculpted edges of pectoral muscles.

The smell of something bitter reminding her of leather-

Uta reached out, and Satome felt a jolt under her skin at the rasp of surprisingly calloused fingers caressing her ankle in concern, snapping her away from her out of character thoughts. Jerking away violently with a hiss, almost unseating herself completely from the wooden bench, she barely saved her book from falling into enemy hands.

"Don't touch me!" her voice cracked a little, but otherwise remained firm. Wincing at the harsh hysterical tone of her voice, Satome cleared her throat and attempted to soften her harsh words, "Sorry- I…" She swallowed heavily trying to calm her racing heart before continuing "I don't like it when strange people invade my personal space."

This stranger named Uta seemed to smile as if pleased by something. His lips barely moved just twitching up at the corners to make a small 'u' shape. Satome was sure if it was on anyone else the action would have been adorable. On him it was so out of place. Adorable was not something she'd use to describe someone, so much- her thoughts stalled before refocusing.

Everything about this man threw her off. She didn't feel comfortable with things she didn't understand. Gritting her teeth Satome clenched her hands around the book still laying open in her lap.

"Hmm, what else don't you like?" the words were friendly as he straightened his posture but otherwise stayed right where he was. Fingers decorated in inked filigree hovered over her bare flesh. Not touching any longer but close enough that she could feel their warmth ghosting over her nerve endings. Satome found herself swallowing heavily. In all honesty, and he wasn't really invading her space; There was exactly enough distance between the them, to be considered polite by most standards. In fact everything pointed towards him just being a concerned bystander. Regardless Satome found herself glaring slightly at him,frustrated with how out of control of the situation she was. Hadn't she just said his proximity bothered her? Wouldn't it be polite to move away? Feeling slightly vindictive she finally deigned to answer one of his questions. Her eyes caught on the bright silver glittering in his left ear, and made it obvious of where her next words were directed.

"Excessive Piercings." She knew it was childish, and immediately she felt guilty; struggling with the strong urge to apologise. But honestly he made something in her war in between either wanting to raise its hackles, and snarling, or running as far and fast as her legs could carry her. She really just wanted him to move away.

 _Stuck in a rainstorm, corned in their little wooden prison, she could do nothing but snarl._

A soft huff of possible amusement was her response, before he shifted back into his seat and picked up a discarded paper pad at his side. Where had that come from?

"That's a shame, miss, they'd suit you."

"I beg your pardon?"

His fingers moved over the open page, a sketchpad she realized, with quick efficiency, detailing something she couldn't see.

"Piercings. You have very dainty ears."

She resisted the urge to hide her ears. Hopefully the rain would stop soon. Before she went utterly mad. Absently Satome tucked her feet up onto the bench beside her, hoping to deter any more special invasions. She was doing her best to pretend that the places his fingers brushed weren't still tingling.

"And?"

His voice brought her crashing back down to earth. Blinking the girl found herself replying to the prompt without thought, "And what?" 

Curious despite herself, Satome's bright eyes were transfixed on the pencils dance across the page, and so she missed the strange face Uta made. Curiosity.

"Things you don't like."

She finally lifted her gaze toward his, or at least she thought he was looking at her, wishing the sunglasses weren't covering so much of his expression. Chewing her lip Satome considered going back to ignoring him. Sadly that had only seemed to invite the guy into trying harder. Letting out a gusty sigh, she resigned herself to the inevitable, feeling much better now that he was back on his side of the bench.

It's his voice she decided. Something about it that hinted he was having fun at your expense.

"Nosy people"

"And?"

Despite the stupid circumstances, and her lingering disquiet of this person's strange personality, Satome laughed.

"Tattoos"

And if her laugh sounded a little hysterical, neither gave it any mention.

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End(?)

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Uta is hard to write. Like... what even. Anyway this took me two days of sitting at the computer, listening to a 9 hour track of a summer rainstorm at 4 am, to get out, agonizing over everything, (Like I usually do) so I'm just happy that it didn't seem like total trash. *knocks on wood* I self check my writing so if anythings weird... I'm sorry. Please mention it and I'll try and fix :9 This might get fleshed out to something more. Right now Im just posting to get feed back of the characterization. Dipping your toes into a new fandom is always nervous business. *wonders off muttering obscenities about Uta*

Till next time~!

 _Reviews fuel an Authors love for writing_

 _\- Addicted_


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